


A Match made In Hell

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Consensual Violence, M/M, S&M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake and Avon discover they have compatible kinks... too compatible for safety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Match made In Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2008 LJ dooooooom ficathon. The theme was taboos, particularly sexual ones. The prompt I had led me in this direction.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

At least now I knew why Blake wore such baggy shirts. He'd teleported up from Cygnus Alpha, smiled at me, casually put a hand on my arm, and tightened his grip until my mouth fell open in mute agony.

Ah. That felt good.

Jenna noticed, but probably assumed that Blake had guessed why there had been a delay in teleport. She smirked and led Vila and Gan off on a tour of the ship, so Blake could tear a strip off me in private.

Only someone had already torn a strip off Blake. His grip eased and he sagged against me. I caught him and held him tight enough to notice that we were both aroused.

"Blake? What's wrong?"

He grunted and got his feet under him, taking some of his weight. "They didn't like me on Cygnus. Get me to the med-unit, Avon."

I nodded and helped him along the corridors. We're both Alpha males. I didn't question his need to hide vulnerability from the others. I was mildly shocked that he'd allowed me to see. 

His chest was a mess of burns and cuts. Amateurish. You could tell whoever did it had no idea where nerve bundles lay or how deep to go before you were below the area of sensitivity. This was butchery. His arms were another story. The faintly raised silver tracery of scar tissue had been etched meticulously. 

I raised my eyebrows, and gave him a full-spectrum antibiotic before I began cleaning him up. His eyes watched me without the wariness I would have expected.

"It looks worse than it is, " I said briskly. "You're suffering a mild case of shock, but the blood loss isn't severe enough to require a transfusion. Which is fortunate, as I haven't figured that out yet." I had, of course, found the computer interface in here and learned how to operate the medical equipment. I'd kept my mouth shut about it. Let one of the others play nurse.

"Yes, that's what I thought." Blake looked at me steadily as I washed him and used the tissue regenerator on him. 

"I'll get you another shirt from the wardrobe room." 

Blake caught my arm. "Not yet, Avon." And then he kissed me. And when I gasped and opened my mouth, trying to get up the indignation for a protest, he bit me.

It had been a long time, and while Anna had been good, I sensed she'd done it only to please me. Which is why I'd loved her so. It couldn't have been easy for her to play the role of sadistic dominant. But Blake was a natural and I responded instinctively.

He tore the clothes off of me and forced me to kneel on the floor. I fought quite hard, testing him. How did he know? Was he only guessing? Or was he really angry with me? I had the answer to the last when he held me down, growling curses in my ear, and shoved slick fingers up my arse until I was biting my tongue to keep from begging for it. He knew. And that made me angrier, and harder, and apprehensive, and harder. And damn. It was too good to care that Blake was the last person in the universe I should allow to see this side of me.

Then Blake mounted and fucked me hard, raking his nails down my back and sides until the blood ran and the excitement had me moaning and shoving back onto him. I'm fairly sure somewhere along the line I broke down and begged, but Blake never mentioned it afterward. He was far too wise. I'd have ripped his balls off and shoved them down his throat if he had. Well... probably not _literally_.

Afterward we cleaned up together, and I got him a new shirt. We never spoke of it, of course. Alpha males don't do that. We don't have needs. We take what we want. If I happened to leave on the flight deck a fine-beam laser cutter tuned to exactly his skin depth it wasn't a gift for him to use when he needed the release of cutting. If he happened to glare me down on the flight deck, it wasn’t because he saw I needed to be put in my place.

We just... matched. It was purely a reciprocal equation that balanced on both sides. The fighting off and on the flight deck was exhilarating. He humiliated me with his control. I infuriated him with my defiance. I took to wearing tight trousers to better torment myself. His trousers became even baggier.

It was unbelievably good. We were fucking verbally in public, in the middle of battles, oh, everywhere.

I really wasn't keen on fighting the Federation, and often considered leaving him, but where would I ever find such a great fuck again? And... I liked him. I was extremely embarrassed to discover myself holding him protectively on the occasions when he was _really_ hurt.

That embarrassment is probably why I talked myself into a corner one day and left him with no option but to leave me and give me the ship. He was truly angry at me that night for the first time. He called me an idiot and meant it.

When he left, I only pretended to look for him. I do, after all, have some self-preservation instincts. Otherwise I would long ago have gone too far in play. Blake and I were _too_ well matched. Pouring fuel on a fire is one thing, but using a bomb to trigger a thermonuclear reaction... well... 

I love Blake.

And if I ever see him again, I think I'll kill him.

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt was: Never Kill a Boy on the First Date.


End file.
